


Anomalies

by Gaia_bing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Engagement, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mystery, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers Infinity Wars, Romance, no cryo for Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-13 05:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12976536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaia_bing/pseuds/Gaia_bing
Summary: An anomaly: something that is wrong, something that doesn't belong...Like a painting that shouldn't exist, an instrument that shouldn't be repaired...Like your fiancé that is supposed to be dead.





	1. Right into the Media Res

**Author's Note:**

> So, a brand new story by yours truly. Hope you like this one. :)

James Buchanan Barnes was standing there, not moving.

  
Not even breathing.

  
He was shaken to the absolute core.

  
_Who_ did...?

  
_How_ did...?

  
He was staring at the object that he'd just thrown back onto the small counter, from where he'd picked it up just a few second earlier...

  
A large, white canvas,

  
With black, grey and red lines swiftly and expertly painted on it.

  
Bucky was staring at a painting of himself.

  
But it wasn't the painting that was spooking him so much,

  
It was the still semi-dry paint that had slightly smeared his fingers when he'd picked the canvas up.

  
He knew that it was Steve Grant Rogers, his fiancé, that had painted this.

  
_But...this was absolutely impossible_ , Bucky rethought once again to himself.

  
Because Steve Grant Rogers, his once-fiancé...

  
Had been dead for the past year.

  
Bucky had just returned to their apartment after a whole 365 days of grieving away from the place.

  
And the only known key to the formerly-shared home was shining brightly between his non-stained fingers.

  
**\------------**

  
Steve Grant Rogers sat there, looking at the thing that he'd just thrown onto the ground just now...

  
Immobile, feeling like he was about to have a panic attack,

  
Shocked beyond belief.

  
This...

  
This was _so_ not funny.

  
Someone was playing a _very_ bad prank, a grimly, _dirty_ trick on him.

  
Only seconds earlier, he'd grabbed the large object,

  
A wooden, old-looking guitar,

  
Inside his hands.

  
An object that belonged to the love of his life,

  
James Buchanan Barnes.

  
A guitar that Steve knew possessed only **_five_ ** strings, because he'd sworn to give Bucky a sixth one as his birthday present.

  
But unfortunately, he'd never had the chance to celebrate Bucky's birthday and to buy him the piece of nylon just as he'd promised...

  
Because his fiancé had died before Steve had been able to give him his birthday present.

  
So then how, Steve asked himself for what seemed like multiple hundreds of times since his eyes fell on the instrument his once-fiancé had adored so much,

  
How in the world did that guitar had **_six_** strings now?

  
Especially since he'd just returned to the place that he'd shared with Bucky after a whole year living elsewhere, too consumed by sorrow to stay alone inside the apartment....

  
And the only key that unlocked its wooden door was resting gently inside the breast pocket of his shirt?


	2. 365 days earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really, what a stupid, stupid thing to argue over like that...

It really had been something quite trivial, whenever they rethought about it.

  
Wedding color schemes. How to decorate a single room for a couple of hours, for everything to be taken down and thrown away when the party that would celebrate the happy couple would come to an end.

  
And so far, they'd both agreed that Gold was a perfect first choice.

  
It was the second pick of color however that had become quite the problem.

  
And it really was something quite trivial, whenever they rethought about their argument about the matter that simple, sunny morning...

  
And especially whenever they thought of what had happened afterwards...

  
But, at the time, the whole thing actually was...

  
_"Look, all I'm saying is that Red is passion! It's love! It's to say that even after a whole century apart, what we feel for one another has never and will never wither, no matter what happens!" Steve had said from his end of the kitchen table, which was immersed in wedding brochures, printed papers and the likes._

  
...a serious matter for both men...

  
_"And I'm saying that Black would be a much better choice! It's timeless! It's sophisticated! It's to show the world that despite whatever it's thrown at us, we've always thrived and we've both come back better than ever before!" Bucky had replied back, putting his feet on his own end of the four-legged piece of furniture._

  
...and neither of them would budge an inch.

  
_Steve had squinted his eyes at the jerk that was his fiancé as he said: "I think you just want that color because you don't want to piss T'Challa off since he's the reason we're able to have the wedding that we want and he's also the reason you can actually cross both of your arms again, just like you're doing right now."_

  
_Bucky had looked down at his two limbs, one that had always been made of flesh and the other that had been recently repaired thanks to the good people of Wakanda, who had also been responsible for liberating him of Hydra's complete control by finally removing the words that had been lodged deep inside his brain for so long..._

  
Okay, so _maybe_ Steve had a point on that, but...

...

  
_Looking back up at the punk that was his fiancé, Bucky had frowned and deepened his arm-crossing as he'd replied: "And I think you're just picking your color because you don't want to piss Tony off since he's the reason we're able to actually live here and plan this wedding without some police guy coming in and arrest both of our asses right on the spot."_

  
_Steve had looked to the side and sighed. It really **was** a good thing what Tony had done, changing the Accords so that the Avengers that had rebelled against the Government had stopped being labeled as outlaws and were now free to live their lives as they pleased, wherever they wanted to do so. And on top of that, promising to at least try to begin to forgive Bucky for what happened to his parents, no Steve couldn't forget that either..._

  
Okay, so _maybe_ Bucky had a point on that, but...

...

  
Steve was about to argue _something_ back,

  
And Bucky had _something_ ready to retort with..

  
And for the life of both of them, neither would ever remember what they were about to say to the other at that particular moment,

  
Because it really, really _had_ been something very trivial, whenever they rethought about it.

  
And especially when they thought about what happened _afterwards_...

  
If they'd both only known what was about to happen...

  
They would have taken a moment right here and there,

  
Smiling with the corner of their lips and laughing at how silly the whole thing was,

  
They would have come together in an embrace, hugging the other as tightly as possible, whispering _"I'm sorry."_ and _"I love you."_ , before pouring every single ounce of what they felt toward the other into a passionate and apologetic kiss...

  
If they'd had the chance to do that whole morning all over again, this is what they would have both done...

  
Yes, this is what _should_ have happened...

  
But unfortunately for them,

  
That is not _what_ happened.

*************

  
A phone rang,

  
Mission clothes were put on,

  
Still no speaking between the two.

  
A Quinjet landed,

  
Many people embarked on the thing,

  
Still no eyeing between the two.

  
The mission would last a day, two at most, they both thought.

  
The idiot that was their fiancé would crumble under their stubborn silence on the matter, end up apologizing for the silly argument they'd had that morning and everything would be just fine and dandy between the two of them by the time they'd both defeat this routine enemy and they'd both have returned home from this probable routine mission, they each thought.

  
But, see...

  
The thing was...

  
This wasn't a routine mission.

  
"Buck?"  
_"Yeah, Steve?"_  
"What the hell are the Infinity Stones?"  
_"I don't know."_

  
And this wasn't a routine enemy.

  
_"Steve?_ "  
"Yeah, Buck?"  
_"Who the hell is Thanos?"_  
"I have no idea."

Because really,

  
_"Bucky!"_

  
Wedding Color Schemes.

  
_"Steve!"_

  
What a _stupid_ , **_silly_** , trivial _**trivial**_ thing to be upset about that very morning...

  
**_"WATCH OUT!!!"_**

  
When you watch the love of your life literally disappear from your arms that very evening.


	3. Ashes and Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's all that was left of them.

  
They define ashes as some small, tiny grey residuals that is left behind after something is consumed, on most occasions by fire or something resembling that matter.

  
*****************  
It was a rainy Saturday morning, the mood perfect for what was about to come, if Bucky could say so himself.  
But right now, he just couldn't say...well anything really.

  
He hadn't uttered a word in five whole days.

  
Not since Thanos had charged his Infinity Gauntlet,

  
Not since the former Winter Soldier had ran to the current Captain America and had jumped to protect his fiancé from the upcoming blast.

  
Not since he'd felt the hard form of the love of his life against both of his palms one second and then...

  
And then...

  
**_*Knock* *Knock*_ **

  
_"Bucky, are you ready to go? The car's waiting for you outside."_ called out his old but newly-remembered friend, Natasha.

  
The man in question shook his head out of his thoughts and straightened his tie and the bottom of his suit, before making his way out of the room and out of the door.

  
He had a fiancé to bury after all.

  
**\-------------**

  
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, quite the opposite of the appropriate mood of what was to come.

  
And as the limo that Tony had lend to drive them all to the appointed spot,

  
Steve couldn't stop jittering, his slick black shoes tapping onto the carpeted floor of the car as his rather bad case of the jimmy legs got worse and worse after each street passed him by and brought him closer to...

  
Closer to...

  
Thank _god_ someone had brought a newspaper with them. This would bring him some much-needed distraction from his thoughts.

  
But unfortunately for the others in the car, that meant that Steve restarted doing the one thing he'd been doing for the past six days...

  
Ever since Wakanda,

  
Ever since the current Captain America had ran toward the owner of his heart, to protect him from the upcoming charge from Thanos,

  
Ever since Bucky had been right there, in his arms like always one second and then the next...

  
The _next_...

  
"-wow, would you look at that! 50% off men watches up at Macy's! And just for the next three days! We got to go there and buy us some!" Steve exclaimed with a delighted expression on his face, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

  
_"Yes, Steve."_ someone in the car said in a reassuring voice.

  
But Steve didn't hear him or her, as he turned to the next page of the newspaper and said: "And jeez, the Mets won 3 to 1 against the Jays last night, aren't they amazing? I mean, they aren't the Dodgers by any means of the imagination, but they're still quite _something_ , am I right or am I not?"

  
_"Yes, Steve."_ another person in the car responded, probably Sam, knowing the whole routine by now.

  
Knowing that this was how Steve was trying to cope with what had happened six days earlier:

  
By talking non-stop about everything...

  
Everything but the fiancé that he was about to bury.

  
***********

  
They also define ashes as what remains of the human body after cremation or burning.

  
But then again, both Bucky and Steve didn't need to cremate their fiancé, because...

  
Because...

  
Because Thanos had already done the job for them.

  
***********

  
Bucky stood there, a tiny jar inside his hands, as the priest in front of the gathered group talked and talked.

  
But all he could hear was the sound of the falling water on the top of his hunched shoulders,

  
All he could see were the many, _many_ standing stones that adorned the resting place that had always been the Arlington Cemetery,

  
And all he could feel was sensation of his heart crumbling in even more tiny pieces than ever before, even though he'd thought it's stopped doing so the second he'd began to feel nothing but grainy matter inside his palms back in Wakanda.

  
**\----------------**

  
Steve advanced toward the small podium that had been set up for the occasion, stepping on it just as the priest walked back down and went behind the gathered crowd of people.

  
Small box in hands, he approached the microphone.

  
He could do this.

  
He'd already lost Bucky before and went through it just fine.

  
He could do it again.

  
He could talk about the love of his life.

  
He could talk about how even though they'd ended up winning against Thanos, they'd also all lost a piece of themselves, including him.

  
He'd spend the last six days blathering, speaking and yapping about...

  
He could easily speak right here and there.

  
...

  
...

  
But, then...

  
If he could do all of that...

  
Why couldn't he emanate a single sound from his throat just now?

  
As he clutched of what remained of his heart inside the crux of his arms,

  
Just like he'd done so back in Wakanda, when all that was left of Bucky's former large and solid form was some small, tiny grey residuals the moment the blast had ended and he could open his eyes once more.

  
************

  
They finally define ashes as the ruins that end up standing after something is destroyed.

  
Well, standing there on a rainy Saturday morning and a sunny Sunday afternoon, you could say that both Steve and Bucky, with the ashes of the love of their lives inside their arms,

  
Were the purest definition of something left standing after their hearts and their souls were completely destroyed five and six days earlier...

  
Nothing but a bunch of ruins.


	4. Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every deals with grief in their own way. If only Bucky and Steve could get past Step 1 first...

Bucky had done more than just stop speaking ever since he witnessed his fiancé disappear from his arms (he'd very adamantly refused to speak during the funeral, shaking his head as well as his whole body like a mad man).

Because the moment Natasha brought him to her place for the night, knowing he'd definitely shouldn't be alone for the time being, he'd stopped moving all together.

  
Laying inside the bed his best friend had especially made for him. The covers over his head. In the fetal position.

Not eating,

  
Not sleeping,

  
Not even thinking.

  
Doing nothing but lie there inside his fortress of one.

  
Away from the other Tower,

  
Away from his friends,

  
Away from reality,

  
Away from everything.

  
Just him, all alone, like he was always-

  
_"Bucky?"_ his name being gently called out by his best friend brought him out of his wallowing.

  
He furthered himself inside his solitary world, not answering. Wanting to be left alone.

  
But the creak of the door and the click of heels on the floor dictated him another kind of fate.

  
He distanced himself from the slump that the mattress made when Natasha took a seat over the covers.

  
Sweet, caring Natasha, doing all that she could, but so far to no avail...

  
"Bucky, sweetie? Listen, I know how hard the past couple of weeks have been to you, but I haven't seen you get up from underneath that thing except for when you have to relieve yourself and even then you don't even look at anyone or don't even say anything before coming back inside that dark thing that you seemed to have created for yourself. I'm not going to pressure you into doing anything, alright? I just want you to know that everyone's...everyone's..."

  
The cracking in her voice was what made the lump of blankets slightly move and finally, looking weary as hell, Bucky's head finally popped out of the covers.

  
Natasha finally gave her best friend a slight watery smile before finishing her sentence: "I just want you to know that everyone's lost so much to that bastard Thanos already. And I don't wanna lose you to him too. I don't want that and most importantly, Steve wouldn't want that."

  
And the mention of the name that he'd been trying to avoid the mere thought of ever since what happened in Wakanda was what finally cracked him up like an egg, from one side to the other, as for the first time in a whole week, he whispered in a hoarse from being unused voice:

  
"Steve..Steve's gone, isn't he?"

  
"I'm afraid so." Natasha answered, her lips once again quivering.

  
"And he's never going back, isn't he?" he added, a tear silently rolling down his cheek.

  
"I'm afraid not." Natasha answered, scooting over to where her best friend was now sitting.

  
And that right there was when Bucky finally realized the truth and with that came it heartbreaking consequences, as he finally allowed himself to be taken inside Natasha reassuring embrace:

  
The shaking, the waterfalls that were now his damped cheeks and the silent sobs that Natasha felt dampen her cotton-wearing shoulder.

**\----------**

  
Steve on the other hand...

  
He'd stood there at the funeral, lips near a microphone and as he'd been doing for the past couple of days, he'd started to talk.

  
Not about Bucky, of course, but about everything else, just like he'd been doing so for the past couple of days.

  
And when he'd been dragged away after telling his fifth consecutive knock-knock joke, he hadn't gone straight home or at Sam's place, just like the man had proposed to do so for the night...

  
He went for a run.

  
And shopped,

  
And played video-games,

  
And ran some more,

  
And searched for missions and good causes, everywhere that he could find.

  
Even where there wasn't any.

  
"So I just found out about this purple rectangular thing that landed in the north of Uruguay, right? And I'm thinking...alien threat!" he proclaimed while walking inside the comm room of the Tower, about two weeks since everything had happened.

Feeling what was coming, Sam, the only other Avenger that was there, sighed and dropped the newspaper that he was reading on top of the large table standing right in front of him. "Steve..." he began.

  
But the man in question interrupted him by putting his hand up and showing him a newspaper of his own as he remarked: "See, it says so right here! UFO sighting ! We should all gather together and see what's it about, right? It'd get us some of the the good Avengers feeling and boy have we missed some of that in here, am I right? Right!"

  
"Steve, stop! That newspaper is from yesterday and the Uruguayan Army has already said that this was some junk that fell of the International Station. There's nothing there!"

  
But Steve crossed his arms and shook his head: "Well see, I think you and most importantly, _they_ are **wrong**! I say we put on our costumes, get the Quinjet ready and-"

He started to walk towards getting himself ready...

  
When a hand suddenly grabbed his arm.

  
"And..."

  
And made Steve stop in mid-step.

  
"And..."

  
He looked down at his now frozen feet.

  
"I've gotta...I've gotta move."

  
"Steve..." Sam, the ever supportive friend that he was, softly began to say, tightening his hold on the blond man's forearm when he began to wiggle.

  
But the man in question didn't hear him, still looking down at his unmovable legs, talking to pretty much nobody: "No, see, you don't understand. I've gotta move. I've gotta get out there and do things. Come on feet, get going! Come on legs, get cracking! Why aren't you moving?"

Turning toward his best friend, he probably looked like a madman now with his shrieking out: "Sam, why isn't my lower body doing what I tell it to do?!"

  
Steve didn't wait for an answer before turning around once more.

  
"I can't stop moving, I just cannot stop moving! If I don't stop walking or I don't stop running, if I just stop moving, then....then then then then then then then **THEN _THEN_** **_THEN_**!"

  
And Sam didn't wait for Steve to continue before catching the now falling man inside his arms and slowly lowering the both of them onto the floor.

  
Both didn't know how long they sat there, the taller man inside his best friend's arms, being rocked and being shushed tenderly like back when he was just a small boy.

  
And it wasn't until much, much later, after two whole weeks of buried tears and screams finally came out, that in a hoarse voice, Steve finally croaked out the truth that he'd been running away from since what seemed like an eternity...

  
_"If I just stop moving, then Bucky's really gone."_

 

**_********_ **

  
They say that there exists five steps when you go through grief.

  
What they don't tell you is how much it really hurts and how much it annihilate your already destroyed self you when you go from one small step up to the next.


	5. Getting to the media res

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going back to the beginning of the story...

Eventually, one second, then one minute, then one hour, then one day at a time, things began to get slightly easier.

  
Thinking became less hurtful,

  
Doing things that were relating to what was lost in some way became less of an harrowing idea,

  
Getting out was now a way to relax, instead of a way to escape,

  
And by the time the anniversary of what everyone had decided to call _"The Incident"_ came around, mentioning his name only came with a sad smile and not a whole sob.

  
The one final step that needed to be accomplished to truly move on was here, right in front of their face...

  
The wooden door of their old place.

  
****************

  
Steve was pretty much jogging in place while staring at the metal knob in front of him.

  
He could do this. He had the key in his hand, he could open up the lock and step inside, after being away for a whole year.

  
He'd been doing good, very good in fact ever since his giant breakdown inside Sam's consoling arms.

  
His best friend had done so much for him. He'd probably would still be the automaton that he'd started to become ever since Bucky had passed if it hadn't been for him.

  
But then, if he'd been doing so much better...

  
Why was he still extremely jittery to go back to the last place he had been truly happy?

Shaking his head and without hesitation, he put the key in the lock and stepped inside he and Bucky's old apartment.

  
He'd just thought of something that could really live up the place and make him pay homage to the love of his life in his own way.

  
**\-----------**

  
Bucky couldn't help but smile a little when he stepped inside the place.

  
It was like a whole year hadn't gone by.

Everything had been left in place, just like they'd been before he and his former-fiancé had left for that fateful mission on Wakanda.

  
Just with a whole lot of dust on top of everything.

Jesus, he needed to clean and fast! Someone could get asthma just breathing this thing!

 _Asthma_ , Bucky sighed as something unrelated to anything once again brought him back to thinking of Steve.

  
Shaking his head, he recited to himself the mantra Natasha had taught him to control his negative thoughts and feelings:

  
_"Steve wouldn't want this. Steve wouldn't want this. Steve wouldn't want this."_

  
And so, with the feather duster that he'd brought along with him among other things (and that included a sixth string to the broken guitar that he'd promised himself to take along with him when he'd leave the place that very night) , Bucky began his work.

  
**\-------------**

  
Putting back the paint brush back on top of the easel, Steve took a few steps back and beamed.

  
He'd truly outdone himself with this one.

  
The grey, black and red truly shone onto the piece, almost giving the person represented inside the painting a life of his own.

  
It was like Bucky was truly there, in front of him, smiling that smile of his that had always and would always take Steve's breath away.

  
Speaking of breath, gosh did he truly needed to get out of here, the fumes of the drying paint were starting to make him feel dizzy...

  
Huh, hadn't the hallway been dusty as hell when he'd first came in? Must be his spinning head that was making him seeing things. He opened the windows to let some fresh air in.

  
He stumbled into his old shared bedroom, needing a seat to relax his sudden wave of dizziness.

  
**\------------**

  
Spinning the key one more time, Bucky couldn't help himself, he stroke the newly attached string of his old favorite instrument.

  
It was _perfect_.

  
Putting his now-repaired guitar back on the bed where he'd first found it, Bucky chuckled ti himself when he felt his stomach slightly growl.

  
"Must be noon by now, time to get something to eat", he thought to himself as he made his way out of the bedroom and out into the hallway.

  
Huh, had he opened the windows there when he'd been cleaning the place earlier? For the life of him, he just couldn't remember.

  
Well, fresh air would be a good thing, opened windows or not, he mused to himself once again as he stumbled into the kitchen, ready to make himself a nice sandwich...

  
*************

  
But instead of toasting himself some nice, fresh bread, Bucky's eyes moved toward the small counter inside the kitchen, where he came face-to-face with...

  
**\-------------**

But instead of sitting down on the bed to let his spell of dizziness pass, Steve looked down at the mattress and found himself face-to-face with...


	6. Going crazy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...what now?

Bucky quickly rinsed his now blackened fingers and stared at the picture that had just freaked him to his very core.

  
This painting was new, _that_ he knew.

  
There was no way he'd forgotten it here, because every paintings that Steve had done in the past, he'd sent Natasha to take back to her place, as a sort of Memorial of his former-fiancé to himself. And she'd told him she'd toured the place at least five times before leaving so that she wouldn't forget even one of Steve's many, _many_ artistic pieces.

  
That he all knew.

  
So, something was definitely going on here, that he was sure of it.

  
What it was actually, that he wasn't so sure about.

  
Had all of the cleaning and the moving around that he'd done for the past couple of hours done him in? Was he so tired that he was beginning to see some things that weren't really there?

  
And rethinking about it, the opened windows back in the hallway...

  
He hadn't done _that,_ he was sure of it.

  
Or, at least he thought he hadn't.

  
What the hell was going on with him? Was he forgetting things he'd done only minutes earlier?

  
Was he suffering something more serious than just some slight exhaustion? Had grief done irreparable damage to his already messed-up brain and now, instead of living the rest of his days behind bars, like he'd feared he'd do so back in his runaway days, his fate would actually bring him inside a padded cell, his arms attached around his torso so that he didn't harm anyone?

  
Slightly defeated, Bucky went over to where the painting was laying and hopped on the small counter it was resting upon.

  
He sighed, running both of his hands over his face and couldn't help but cry out his frustration...

  
To what he'd initially thought was pretty much no one...

  
_"...Bucky?"_

  
Someone said from the bedroom.

  
**\-------**

  
Pacing back and forth, that's what Steve was doing ever since dropping the instrument he'd just picked up back on top of the bed that he'd used to share with his former-fiancé.

  
"What the hell, what the hell, what the hell..." he muttered to himself.

  
The piece of nylon that was busy resting there, all tensed up like it was supposed to be, he knew that it didn't belong to him, because the one that he himself had bought and had intended to use to mend the broken instrument with was still resting inside a bag...

  
Locked up inside a busy closet...

  
Back at Sam's place...

  
All the way back in Washington D.C.

Something was going on here, if he could only just find out _what_.

  
But, then again, when he'd finished the piece that he would probably end up calling _"Bucky Memorial"_ , hadn't the hallway he'd passed through just before entering the bedroom looked much, _much_ cleaner than the first time he'd went through it?

  
Had he done some cleaning earlier and he'd completely forgotten about it?

  
Or maybe, the dizziness that made him come to this particular room had something to do with what he was seeing/forgetting.

  
Yeah, maybe this was it...

  
"Yeah, the fumes from the painting that I did earlier must have gotten to my head or something!" Steve slightly giggled to himself.

  
"I'm just going to close my eyes..."

  
With a determined look upon his face, he did just that.

  
"I'm going to count to three..."

  
In a loud voice, he did just that.

  
"And when I open them back up... _crap_!"

  
The guitar was _still_ laying on top of the bed, _still_ with it's tensed up six string that it had now instead of the five that it should be having and _still_ a completely mind-boggling thing for Steve to see.

He slumped on top of the neatly-made mattress, completely dumbfounded.

Had he...had he finally lost it?

  
Had the grief that had taken over him for the past year done much more damage than he'd previously thought and he was now forgetting important things like tasks that he'd thought he hadn't accomplished but in reality, he actually had?

  
God, his head was now throbbing by the all the questions that were busy trampling all over his mind like a bunch of headless chickens.

  
He was about to close his eyes and try to calm what probably was an upcoming migraine...

  
When...

  
_"God, what a fucking mess!"_

  
Someone said from the kitchen.


	7. The bed and the counter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are remembered and things come to a head...

If James Buchanan Barnes had stopped breathing the moment he'd seen his former-fiancé's painting laying on top of the kitchen counter, what he'd heard just now made his heart double in its beating.

  
"...Steve?" he whispered at first, then another time in a louder tone...

  
**"STEVE?"**

  
**"B-BUCKY!"** he heard a voice he thought he'd only hear in his dreams from now on call out to him just now.

  
His body didn't need his permission to get into action, as the long-haired man sprinted all the way down the hallway, towards the source of the noise he'd thought he would never hear again...

  
Only to find himself staring at an empty place, just like it'd been a couple of hours earlier when he'd first entered the forgotten room.

  
He ran his metallic fingers over his face and sighed. He really _was_ losing it.

  
He looked forlornly at the neatly-made bed. He remembered the look of absolute joy and the tears that had ran his love's face as the former assassin knelled in front of him, silver ring in one hand, the other holding onto Steve's own tighter than ever before.

  
The whispered _"Please, Steve. Please marry me."_

  
The _"Yes."_ that had been whispered back at him.

  
The kiss that had followed.

  
The glorious celebratory sex that had ensued all over the apartment, finishing inside...

  
**\--------**

  
If Steve had been confused by what was happening before, now...

  
Now he really _didn't_ know what to think.

  
He'd thought for sure he'd heard Bucky's voice coming from the kitchen only mere minutes ago.

  
And if he'd thought that it was just his mind playing tricks on him, the yelled out calling of his name a few seconds later only confirmed his suspicion that somehow, Bucky was in the kitchen.

  
But then again, if this was true,

  
Why was he staring at an empty room just now, after his feet had sprinted down the hallway like never before?

  
Nothing that was going on made sense anymore. But then again, ever since Bucky had died, nothing had really made sense, when he really thought about it.

  
He stared at the small kitchen counter with a sad smile.

  
He could remember that moment as if it only happened just a few seconds ago...

  
Seeing Bucky as happy as he'd ever been sitting on top of that thing, after opening his eyes, after the last of those damn words had been read to him and he'd realized...

  
He'd realized that he was finally, 100% free of Hydra's control.

  
The way his eyes had crinkled as he'd laughed giddily for the first time in almost seventy years,

  
The tight hug that had followed.

  
The making out that had happened and that had moved towards the...

  
**************

  
Two people slowly stepped into a thoroughly cleaned and fresh-aired hallway.

  
A blond, bulky-looking man and a brunet with an arm made of alloy and gold.

  
This was the place where the both of them had been the happiest, not on the bed or on that kitchen counter.

  
Or through guitars and paintings.

  
It was there that they'd joined together over and over again, celebrating all sorts of things,

  
Loving one another the most.

  
They both reached the middle of the narrow room, all the while always staring,

 

Shocked looks on their faces,

  
Slightly awed _"Hey."_ and _"Hi."_ dropping from both of their mouths.

  
With all the while tears rolling down their cheeks...

  
And an extended hand that passed through the other's.


	8. Experts to the rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve seeks help from a friend...if only she could believe him first.

  
Back in the Tower the following day, Wanda angrily walked down the hall that was going from the communication room back to where she'd been living ever since the events of Wakanda, calling out behind her as she opened up an upcoming door:

  
"You're crazy."

  
And Steve, catching the swinging piece of wood in his hand, responded in an apologetic manner:

  
"It sounds like it, I know."

  
But Wanda was having none of Steve's bullshit, _especially_ on this particular subject.

  
"You are out of your goddamn mind." She once again called out.

"Believe me, I thought I was when everything happened." Steve once again responded.

  
Back and forth it went between him and Wanda as they descended down the long flight of stairs,

  
Until finally, Steve went in for the kill:

  
"Wanda, please! Just give it a shot! Do you know what Bucky told me?"

  
Wanda turned around, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised as a challenge:

  
"What?" she sighed.

  
***********

  
_"I'm not the only one that's with me. There's T'Challa and Thor and Natasha and Vision and, and, and..." Bucky sniffled as he tried to stop the oncoming onslaught of tears._

  
_"I've got Tony on my side...and Wanda and Sam and Bruce and, and, and..." Steve replied, stammering just like his former-_

  
_No, his **still** -fiancé._

  
_"Oh god, Steve! It's been hell! I've been living in absolute hell for the past year." Bucky said, his face once again crumbling._

_This made Steve's own tears redouble in frequency as he responded: "I know. Every single moment that I've been without you has been pure agony. If only..."_

_"If only you could touch me?" Bucky finished for him, his face quirking up in a slight smile._

_To which Steve could only nod, too overcome with all sorts of emotions to speak._

  
_"Me too. **God** , me too." Bucky added, trying one more time as he reached for his still-fiancé's arm..._

  
_But once again touching nothing but air._

_"What...what do we do?" Steve asked, his speech finally returning._

  
_Gears seemed to begin turning inside Bucky's head and then..._

 

_"Whatever's going on, we can't do it alone."_

  
*************

  
"And that's why we need your help. Steve's trying to get Wanda over on his side of things and we thought that maybe, with your Stone and her magic, maybe we could all be together again." Bucky finished explaining, crossing his arms as he awaited the upcoming answer of the man that was standing in front of him.

  
And Vision, with the maybe-promise of maybe-seeing his beloved Scarlet Witch again, even if it was for a second or so...

  
Just like Wanda had eventually done so, with a slight shrug, but with still some skepticism written on his face,

  
Nodded in approval. 


	9. The rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things finally get settled.

  
"Steve?" Bucky called out the next day, entering the apartment with a still-weary Wanda in tow.

  
And this was why the brown-haired woman slightly jumped when a voice that she herself thought she'd never hear again called out from the hallway that connected the kitchen and the bedroom of the place:

  
"I'm here." she heard Steve Rogers say and as she approached the source of the voice...

  
She found herself face to face with a just as shocked Vision.

  
"Oh...oh my goodness." her still-alive somehow love whispered.

Whimpering, she put a hand over her mouth as she tried to collect herself and she whispered: "Oh god, you're here."

  
And Steve appeared just as she was extending her hand to touch who'd she thought had disappeared forever and said: "Yeah, don't bother with that. It ain't going to work, believe me."

  
"You're here too." Wanda said, clearly remembering what had happened...

  
The blast that had affected everyone back in Wakanda,

  
Thanos only wearing three of the five Infinity Stones,

  
But it had done the job anyways, as she helplessly watched almost half of the assembled Avengers disappear into thin air...

  
Or more precisely, into thin ashes.

  
That they'd all been forced to bury and grieve for the past year or so.

  
Affecting them all if different ways.

  
If only they all had searched better, if only they all had went further, if only they all hadn't given up hope and if only they all hadn't abandoned at the first sight of death in front of them...

  
Maybe none of them would have felt an iota of the pain that they had all felt over the past twelve months.

  
_If only..._

  
"I know what you're thinking and none of this is any of our fault, my dearest. You didn't know, I didn't know, they didn't know...we all didn't know..." Vision said, with a sad smile of his own.

  
Sniffling and drying her eyes with the back of her hand, Wanda turned toward the smiling brown-haired man that had walked right behind her form and was staring at his own love with a beaming smile, which Steve responded in jest.

  
"So, what do we do now?" she asked to the rest of the group.

  
"Well, if what I'm remembering is right, Thanos had the Space, Time and Reality Stones on his Glove when he blasted at us." Bucky answered, laying his back on the nearby wall.

  
"And somehow, this created a seperate...Timeline? Plane? Existence? between the two halves of all of us..." Steve continued.

  
"And since Thanos didn't know anything about emotional resonance, he didn't know that doing what he did could create reaching points between the two...realms of sorts, like this one right here." Vision finished, with a rare smile of his own.

  
"So, you're thinking that with our combined powers, me and Vision could create some sort of bridge right here?" Wanda asked once more, trying to gather all the info she'd just been bombarded with.

  
The three men in front of her nodded.

  
She was the one smiling now as she added with a renewed vigor:

  
"Well then, what the hell are we waiting for?"

  
*************

  
Bucky and Steve stood in front of one another, at the limit where they could be without passing through one another like ghosts.

  
Wanda and Vision were standing behind each of them, ready for the task at hand.

  
"So..." Bucky started.

  
"So..." Steve also started.

  
They stood there, just staring at one another, overcome by everything that had happened for the past three hundred and sixty five days.

  
"I guess the line was here all along, right Steve?'" finally asked Bucky.

  
"Yeah, you could say that again." Steve answered, reciprocating his love's slight laugh and smile.

  
"Are you guys ready?" finally called out Wanda, her fingers fully charged of red energy.

  
"Yes, are you ready?" called out Vision on his side, the Stone lodged on the middle of his head shining like a mini-sun.

  
Both men turned over, nodded, then turned back once more and after a blinding light engulfed their entire world...

 

They collapsed in each other's arms for the first time in almost twelve months. 


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's well that ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go, final chapter! I wanna thank everybody who supported this little story of mine, it really meant a lot to me. :)

Somewhere in Wakanda, three months later...

  
"Buck?"

  
"Hmm?"

  
"We have to be ready in twenty minutes."

"I know."

  
"And the car's going to pick us up in an additional five on top of that."

  
"Yeah."

  
"..."

"Steve?"

  
"Yeah?"

  
"We're supposed to be down that aisle in forty-five minutes."

  
"I know."

  
"...Five minutes more then?"

  
"Five minutes more then."

  
You'll have to excuse the couple that is laying in bed right now. They might arrive a bit late to the proceedings that will finally make them official, but after what happened to them only a few months before, can you really blame them?

  
Can you really blame them to hug each other a bit tighter when the occasion presents itself?

  
Can you really blame them to take their time whenever they make love nowadays, whispering sweet words against damp skin over and over again and looking in each other's eyes with grateful tears silently rolling down their cheeks?

  
Can you really blame them that every single time they kiss now, they do so like it's the last kiss they're ever going to share?

  
Nobody really can.

  
Not when someone receives a second chance like they had.

  
Like everyone on the team had,

  
When all of the emotive points had been reconnected,

  
Finally repairing what Thanos had done,

  
And the Avengers were _fully_ assembled once more.

  
And they'd all make every damn mili-second of that opportunity count,

  
Especially Steve Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.

  
For richer or poorer,

  
For sickness and health,

  
As long as the two of them would live,

  
_This_ time they would be sure of that.

 

...Oh, and for those wondering? 

Gold, Red _and_ Black ended up being a fantastic mix of wedding colors.

**Author's Note:**

> So as you can see, Bucky and Steve are living inside two different...timelines right now. The mystery here is how they got to this point and how they'll get themselves out of it.
> 
> So, for further references:
> 
> \-------: Timeline break  
> ********: Story break
> 
> Thank you and enjoy further reading. :)


End file.
